Today is Day One of my 30 day cleansing process. Of course, I haven't seen much change in the physical. But mentally, all of the ill feelings I have been trying to plunger down are creeping up. I almost had to call off of work today, ya'll. I've accepted the fact that I've felt devastated for the past three months. That's a big word. But a real one. Below is a poem I wrote during lunch today.
Plastic Sex
He attached to her hip
Using polymer slip
He got real deep
But didn't rip her
Distant lovers
He was inside her but
No how close
He looked sweet into her eyes
That had no soul
Her hair never moved her
Face never bloomed with romance
Just painted expressions of nothingness
Her babydoll skin gleamed
It was unbreakable
Unbearable the weight of real life
When she made love
She didn't build it with trust, honesty or commitment
Her fake smiles were facsimilies of sex
Her breasts made molds of strong holds
Slow whispers were cellulose
Blended into a formula of what seemed to be closeness
She created simulations of situations where real love making
Appears to be mainfesting
However, it is as synthetic as the caressing she feels
When he calls her name
Her rubber heart stayed buoyant
During bouts when she was bent and stretched
Her plastic life was enough to keep her laminate
Keep him obsessed
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1 comment:
Ahh, plastic sex..just as American as plastic titties or these plastic asses I've been hearing about. I think this happens quite frequently, I may even be guilty of it myself. Actually I know I am. I like the piece though, interesting perception.
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